THE  GF\e?\T 

'REMEMBRANCE 


ANDOTfieR  PO€M5  BY 
HARD  WATSON  GIL) 


THE  GREAT  REMEMBRANCE 
AND  OTHER  POEMS 


'By  7^.  W.  GILDER 
I.  THE  CWEW  DAY 
II.  THE  CELESTIAL  'PASSION 

III.  L  YRICS 

IV.  TWO    WORLDS,  tAND  OTHER  TOE  MS 

V.  THE  GREAT  REMEMBRANCE,  tAND  OTHER  TOEMS 


THE  GREAT  REMEMBRANCE 
AND  OTHER  POEMS  &  BY 
RICHARD  WATSON  GILDER 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 
CENTURY  CO.  N.  Y. 

1893 


Copyright,  1893, 

BY  RICHARD  WATSON  GILDER. 

All  rights  reserved- 


THE   DE  VINNE   PRESS. 


CONTENTS 

I 

PAGE 

THE  GREAT  REMEMBRANCE  :  Read  at  the  Annual  Reunion 
of  the  Society  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  Faneuil  Hall, 
Boston,  June  27,  1893 .II 

II 

"THE  WHITE  CITY"  (The  Columbian  Exposition  Buildings 

have  thus  been  named  by  Mr.  H.  C.  Bunner)         .         .  27 

THE  VANISHING  CITY 30 

THE  TOWER  OF  FLAME  :   The  Columbian  Exposition,  July 

10,  1893  :   In  Memory  of  the  Firemen  who  bravely  Perished  34 

LOWELL •        •        •  35 

THE  SILENCE  OF  TENNYSON 38 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  GREAT  MAN  (Phillips  Brooks)         .  39 

FAME .40 

A  MONUMENT  BY  ST.  GAUDENS 41 

A  MEMORY  OF  RUBINSTEIN 42 


M202648 


i  CONTENTS 

How  PADEREWSKI  PLAYS" 


43 


THE  ACTOR       .        .        .......  6 

THE  STRICKEN  PLAYER  (EDWIN  BOOTH)  ....  47 

ELEONORA  DUSE       ......  4g 

KELP  ROCK  (E.  C.  S.)         .        .        .        .        ...  49 

AT  NIAGARA     .......  -0 

THE  CHILD-GARDEN     ......    '    .    '    ,  51 

A  CHILD   ........  - 

Two  VALLEYS       ......                •        •  54 

ON  THE  BAY     .........  56 

INDIRECTION         .........  .7 

"An,  BE  NOT  FALSE  "      .......    '  5g 

THE  ANSWER        .........  co 

How  DEATH  MAY  MAKE  A  MAN    .....  60 

"CAME  TO  A  MASTER  OF  SONG"        ...  .62 

MERIDIAN          .........  54 

EVENING  IN  TYRINGHAM  VALLEY       .....  66 


III 


A   BOOK   OF   SONGS 

"  BECAUSE  THE  ROSE  MUST  FADE  "  .....  69 

"FADES  THE  ROSE"        .....       .        .  71 

THE  WINTRY  HEART  ........  72 

HAST  THOU  HEARD  THE  NIGHTINGALE?       ...  73 
"  IN  THAT  DREAD,  DREAMED-OF  HOUR  "   .        .        .        .75 

"  ROSE-DARK  THE  SOLEMN  SUNSET  "       ....  76 

"WINDS    TO    THE    SlLENT    MORN  "          .....  77 


CONTENTS  7 

IV 
A  WEEK'S   CALENDAR 

i.  NEW  YEAR 

ii.  A  NEW  SOUL 

in.  "KEEP  PURE  THY  SOUL" 

iv.  "THY  MIND  is  LIKE  A  CRYSTAL  BROOK" 

v.  "ONE  DEED  MAY  MAR  A  LIFE"      .        .        •        •        85 

vi.  THE  UNKNOWN 

vii.  IRREVOCABLE 


DECORATIONS  BY  H.  DE  K. 


I 

THE    GREAT   REMEMBRANCE 


THE    GREAT    REMEMBRANCE 

READ    AT    THE    ANNUAL    REUNION    OF     THE    SOCIETY    OF 

THE    ARMY   OF    THE    POTOMAC,    FANEUIL    HALL,    BOSTON, 

JUNE   27,    1893 

/^^OMRADES,  the  circle  narrows,  heads  grow  white, 

^-^  As  once  more  by  the  camp-fire's  flaring  light 

We  gather  and  clasp  hands,  as  we  have  done 

These  many,  many  years.     So  long  ago 

A  part  we  were  of  all  that  glorious  show,— 

Stood,  side  by  side,  'neath  the  red  battle-sun, — 

So  long  ago  we  breathed  war's  thunderous  breath, 

Knew  the  white  fury  of  that  life-in-death, 

So  long  ago  that  troubled  joy,  it  seems 

The  valorous  pageant  might  resolve  to  splendid  dreams. 


12  THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE 

But  no!     Too  deep  't  is  burned  into  the  brain! 
As  well  were  lightning-scar  by  summer  rain 
Washed  clean  away,  when  stroke  on  blinding  stroke 
Hath  torn  the  rock,  and  riven  the  blackened  oak. 

How  oft  as  down  these  peaceful  streets  we  pass 
All  vanishes  save,  lo !   the  rutted  grass, 
Wrecked  caissons,  frightened  beasts,  and,  merciful  God ! 
The  piteous  burden  of  the  ensanguined  sod! 

Yet  not  all  terror  doth  the  memory  save 
From  war's  emblazonry  and  open  grave: 
In  glimpses,  flashing  like  a  meteor's  light, 
We  see  the  army  marching  in  the  night; 
Or,  look!    a  thousand  tents  gleam  through  the  black ; 
Or,  now,  where  quick-built  camp-fires  flame  and  crack, 
From  blaze  to  shade  men  stretch  o'erwearied  limbs, 
Chant  songs,  or  wake  the  hills  with  chorused  hymns; 
Or,  ere  the  dawn  makes  pale  the  starry  dark, 
The  fiery  signals,  spark  on  trailing  spark, 
Write  on  the  silent  sky  their  still  command, 
While  the  great  army  moves,  as  by  a  single  hand. 


THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE  13 

So  LONG  ago  it  seems,  so  long  ago, 
Behold,  our  sons,  grown  men  since  those  great  days, — 
Born  since  the  last  clear  bugle  ceased  to  blow 
Its  summons  down  the  valley;    since  the  bays 
Shook  with  the  roar  of  fort  and  answering  fleet, — 
Our  very  children  look  into  our  eyes 
And  find  strange  records,  with  a  mute  surprise, 
As  they  some  curious  traveler  might  greet 
Who  kept  far  countries  in  his  musing  mind, 
Beyond  the  weltering  seas,  the  mountain-walls  behind. 

And  yet  it  was  this  land,  and  not  another, 
Where  blazed  war's  flames  and  rolled  the  battle-cloud. 
In  all  this  land  there  was  no  home  where  brother, 
Father,  or  son  hurried  not  forth;    where  bowed 
No  broken-hearted  woman  when  pale  Death 
Laid  his  cold  finger  on  the  loved  one's  breath. 

LIKE  to  a  drama  did  the  scene  unroll, — 
Some  dark,  majestic  drama  of  the  soul, 
Wherein  all  strove  as  actors,  hour  by  hour, 
Yet  breathless  watched  the  whole  swift,  tragic  play. 
Faithful  did  each  his  little  part   essay, 


I4  THE    GREAT  REMEMBRANCE 

Urged  to  an  end  unknown  by  one  all-knowing  Power; 

While  if  the  drama  pauses,  now  and  then, 

On  the  huge  stage,  't  is  for  a  moment  only, — 

Here  at  the  heart  or  in  some  vista  lonely, 

A  single  hero  or  a  million  men, — 

And  with  the  tragic  theme  the  world  resounds  again. 

First, — in  the  awful  waiting  came  the  shock, 
The  shame  unbearable, —  the  sacred  flag  assailed  — 
Assailed  in   freedom's   name   by   those   who    freedom 

mock! 

Ah,  then  the  oath,  to  stand  as  stands  the  rock 
'Gainst  flood  and  tempest,  lest  that  flag  be  trailed 
And  torn,  or  any  star  therefrom  be  lost — 
The  oath,  murmured  alone,  or  where  the  crowd, 
As  by  a  wind  of  heaven  swept  and  tost, 
Passioned  its  soul  to  God,  and  strong  men  wept  aloud. 

Then  sweet  farewell;   O  bitter-sweet  farewell, 
O  brave  farewell!     Who  were  the  bravest  then, 
Or  they  who  went,  or  waited — women  or  men? 
They  who  the  cheers  heard,  or  the  funeral  knell? 
They  who  stepped  proudly  to  the  rattling  drum, 
Inflamed  by  war's  divine  delirium, 


THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE  I5 

Or  they  who  knew  no  mad  joy  of  the  fight, 
And  yet  breathed  on  through  waiting  day  and  weep 
ing  night? 

FAREWELL  and  forward!    O  to  live  it  over, 
The  first  wild  heart-beat  of  heroic  hours! 
Forward,  like  mountain-torrents  after  showers! 
Forward  to  death,  as  to  his  bride  the  lover! 
Forward,  till  quick  recoils  the  impetuous  flood, 
And  ends  the  first  dread  scene  in  terror  and  in  blood! 

Onward    once    more,    through    sun    and    shivering 

storm, — 

A  monstrous  length  with  wavering  bulk  enorm, — 
Wounded  or  striking,  bringing  blood  or  bleeding, 
Onward,  still  on,  the  agony  unheeding! 
Onward  with  failing  heart,  or  courage  high! 
Onward  through  heat,  and  hunger,  and  dismay, 
Turning  the  starry  night  to  murderous  day! 
Onward,    with    hope   appalled,    once    more   to  strike, 
and  die! 


1 6  THE    GREAT  REMEMBRANCE 

So  MARCHED,  so  fought,  so  agonized,  the  hosts; 
Battling  through  forests;   rotting  where  slow  crawls 
The  deathly  swamp-stream;   and  like  pallid  ghosts 
Haunting  the  hospitals,  and  loathed  prison-walls. 
They  knew  what  freedom  was,  and  right  to  breathe 
Clean  air  who  burrowed  from  the  filth  and  seethe 
Of  foulest  pens,  only  that  dogs  might  track, 
And  to  the  death-pit  drag  their  living  corpses  back. 

Oh,  would  to  Heaven  some  sights  could  fade  from 

out 

Clear  memory's  all  too  melancholy  page  — 
Fade  and  be  gone  forever!     Let  the  shout 
Of  victory  only  linger,   and  the  rage 
And  glory  of  battle  over  land  and  sea, 
And  all  that  noblest  is  in  war's  fierce  pageantry. 

Echoes  of  deeds  immortal,  O  awake, 
Tremble  to  language,  into  music  break, 
Till  lyric  memory  takes  the  old  emotion, 
And  leaps  from  heart  to  heart  the  ancient  thrill! 
Tell  of  great  deeds  that  yet  the  wide  earth  fill : 
How  first  upon  the  amazed  waves  of  ocean 
The  black,  infernal,  deadly  armored-ships 


THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE  17 

Together  rushed,  and  all  the  world  stood  still, 
While  a  new  word  of  war  burst  from  those  iron  lips; 
How  up  the  rivers  thundered  the  strong  fleets; 
How  the  great  captains  'gainst  each  other  dashed 
Gigantic  armies.     What  wild  welcome  meets 
Some  well-loved  chief  who,  ere  those  armies  clashed, 
Rides  like  a  whirlwind  the  embattled  line, 
Kindling  the  stricken  ranks  to  bravery  divine ! 
And,  hark,  at  set  of  sun,  the  cheer  that  greets 
Victorious  news  from  far-off  armies,  flashed 
From  camp  to  camp,  with  roar  on  answering  roar, 
Like  bellowing  waves  that  track  the  tempest  down  the 

shore. 

But  chiefly  tell  of  that  one  hour  of  all 
When  threatening  war  rolled  highest  its  full  tide, 
Even  to  the  perilous  northern  mountain-side 
Where  Heaven  should  bid  our  good  cause  rise  or  fall. 
Tell  of  that  hour,  for  never  in  all  the  world 
Was  braver  army  against  braver  hurled. 
To  both  the  victory,  all  unawares, 
Beyond  all  dreams  of  losing  or  of  winning; 
For  the  new  land  which  now  is  ours  and  theirs, 

2 


1 8  THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE 

Had  on  that  topmost  day  its  glorious  beginning. 
They  who   charged   up  that  drenched   and   desperate 

slope 

Were  heroes  all — and  looked  in  heroes'  eyes! 
Ah !    heroes  never  heroes  did  despise ! 
That  day  had  Strife  its  bloodiest  bourn  and  scope; 
Above  the  shaken  hills  and  sulphurous  skies 
Peace   lifted    up    her   mournful    head    and   smiled    on 

Hope. 

RUSHED  the  great  drama  on  its  tragic  way 
Swift  to  the  happy  end  from  that  tremendous  day. 
Happy,  indeed,  could  memory  lose  her  power 
And  yield  to  joy  alone  the  glad,  triumphant  hour; 
Happy  if  every  aching  heart  could  shun 
Remembrance  of  the  unreturning  one; 
If  at  the  Grand  Review,  when  mile  on  mile 
And  day  on  day  the  marching  columns  passed, 
Darkened  not  o'er  the  world  the  shadow  vast 
Of  his  foul  murder, — he  the  free  from  guile, 
Sad-hearted,  loving,  and  beloved,  and  wise, 
Who  ruled  with  sinewy  hands  and  dreaming  eyes. 


THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE  I9 

What  soul  that  lived  then  who  remembers  not 
The  hour,  the  landscape,  ah!  the  very  spot — 
Hateful  for  aye — where  news  that  he  was  slain 
Fell  like  a  hammer  on  the  dazed  brain ! 

So  LONG  ago  it  was,  so  long  ago, 
All,  all  have  passed ;  the  terror  and  the  splendor 
Have  turned  like  yesterevening's  stormy  glow 
Into  a  sunset  memory  strange  and  tender. 
How  beautiful  it  seems,  what  lordly  sights, 
What  deeds  sublime,  what  wondrous  days  and  nights, 
What  love  of  comrades,  ay,  what  quickened  breath, 
When  first  we  knew  that,  startled,  quailing,  still 
We  too,  even  we,  along  the  blazing  hill  — 
We,  with  the  best,  could  face  and  conquer  death ! 

GLORIOUS  all  these,  but  these  all  less  than  naught 
To  the  one  passion  of  those  days  divine  — 
Love  of  the  land  our  own  hearts'  blood  had  bought : 
Our  country,  our  own  country,  yours  and  mine, 
Then  known,  then  sternly  loved,  first  in  our  lives. 
Ah,  loved  we  not  our  children,  sisters,  wives  ? 


20  THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE 

But  our  own  country,  this  was  more  than  they, — 
Our  wives,  our  children,  this, —  our  hope,  our  love 
For  all  most  dear,  but  more  —  the  dawning  day 
Of  freedom  for  the  world:    the  hope  above 
All  hope  for  the  sad  race  of  man.     For  where, 
In  what  more  lovely  world,  'neath  skies  more  fair, 
If  freedom  here  should  fail,  could  it  find  soil  and  air? 

In  this  one  thought,  one  passion, —  whate'er  fate 
Still  may  befall, — one  moment  we  were  great ! 
One  moment  in  life's  brief,  perplexed  hour 
We  climbed  the  height  of  being,  and  the  power 
That  falls  alone  on  those  who  love  their  kind 
A  moment  made  us  one  with  the  Eternal  Mind. 

ONE  moment,  ah,  not  so,  dear  Country !     Thou 
Art  still  our  passion;    still  to  thee  we  bow 
In  love  supreme !     Fairer  than  e'er  before 
Art  thou  to-day  —  from  golden  shore  to  shore 
The  home  of  freemen.     Not  one  stain  doth  cling 
Now  to  thy  banner.     Argosies  of  war 
On  thy  imperial  rivers  bravely  fling 
Flags  of  the  nations,  but  no  message  bring 


THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE  21 

Save  of  peace  only;  while,  behold,  from  far 

The  Old  World  comes  to  greet  thy  natal  star 

That  with  the  circling  century  returns, 

And  in  the  Western  heavens  with  fourfold  beauty  burns. 

LAND  that  we  love  !    Thou  Future  of  the  World  ! 
Thou  refuge  of  the  noble  heart  oppressed ! 
Oh  never  be  thy  shining  image  hurled 
From  its  high  place  in  the  adoring  breast 
Of  him  who  worships  thee  with  jealous  love ! 
Keep  thou  thy  starry  forehead  as  the  dove 
All  white,  and  to  the  eternal  Dawn  inclined ! 
Thou  art  not  for  thyself  but  for  mankind, 
And  to  despair  of  thee  were  to  despair 
Of  man,  of  man's  high  destiny,  of  God ! 
Of  thee  should  man  despair,  the  journey  trod 
Upward,  through  unknown  eons,  stair  on  stair, 
By  this  our  race,  with  bleeding  feet  and  slow, 
Were  but  the  pathway  to  a  darker  woe 
Than  yet  was  visioned  by  the  heavy  heart 
Of  prophet.     To  despair  of  thee  !     Ah  no  ! 
For  thou  thyself  art  Hope,  Hope  of  the  World  thou  art ! 


22  THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE 

COMRADES  beloved,  see,  the  fire  burns  low, 
And  darkness  thickens.     Soon  will  our  brief  part 
On  earth  forever  end,  and  we  shall  go 
To  join  the  unseen  ranks;    nor  will  we  swerve 
Or  fear,  when  to  the  silent,  great  reserve 
At  last  we  ordered  are  —  as  one  by  one 
Our  Captains  have  been  called,  their  labors  done, 
To  rest  and  wait  in  the  Celestial  Field. 
Ay,  year  by  year,  we  to  the  dead  did  yield 
Our  bravest.     Them  we  followed  to  the  tomb 
Sorrowing;    for  they  were  worthy  of  our  love, 
High-souled  and  generous,  loving  peace  above 
War  and  its  glories:    therefore  lives  no  gloom 
In  this  our  sorrow;    rather  pride,  and  praise, 
And  gratitude,  and  memory  of  old  days. 

A  little  while  and  these  tired  hands  will  cease 
To  lift  obedient  or  in  war  or  peace, — 
Faithful  we  trust  in  peace  as  erst  in  war; 
And  on  the  scroll  of  peace  some  triumphs  are 
Noble  as  battles  won;    though  less  resounds 
The  fame,  as  deep  and  bitter  are  the  wounds. 

But  now  the  fire  burns  low,  and  we  must  sleep 


THE   GREAT  REMEMBRANCE  23 

Erelong,  while  other  eyes  than  ours  the  vigil  keep. 

And  after  we  are  gone,  to  other  eyes 

That  watch  below  shall  come,  in  starry  skies, 

A  fairer  dawn,  whereon  in  fiery  light 

The  Eternal  Captain  shall  his  signals  write; 

And  shaken  from  rest,  and  gazing  at  that  sign, 

On  shall  the  mighty  Nation  move,  led  by  a  hand  divine. 


II 

THE    WHITE    CITY,"   ETC. 


THE    WHITE     CITY" 


GREECE  was ;  Greece  is  no  more. 
Temple  and  town 
Have  crumbled  down ; 

Time  is  the  fire  that  hath  consumed  them  all. 
Statue  and  wall 
In  ruin  strew  the  universal  floor. 


Greece  lives,  but  Greece  no  more ! 
Its  ashes  breed 
The  undying  seed 


28  "  THE    WHITE   CITY" 

Blown  westward  till,  in  Rome's  imperial  towers, 

Athens  reflowers; 

Still  westward — lo,  a  veiled  and  virgin  shore! 

in 

Say  not,  "  Greece  is  no  more." 

Through  the  clear  morn 

On  light  winds  borne 

Her  white-winged  soul  sinks  on  the  New  World's  breast. 

Ah!  happy  West — 

Greece  flowers  anew,  and  all  her  temples  soar! 

IV 

One  bright  hour,  then  no  more 

Shall  to  the  skies 

These  columns  rise. 

But  though  art's  flower  shall  fade,  again  the  seed 

Onward  shall  speed, 

Quickening  the  land  from  lake  to  ocean's  roar. 


THE    WHITE   CITY"  29 


Art  lives,  though  Greece  may  never 

From  the  ancient  mold 

As  once  of  old 

Exhale  to  heaven  the  inimitable  bloom; 

Yet  from  that  tomb 

Beauty  walks  forth  to  light  the  world  forever! 


THE    VANISHING    CITY 


ENRAPTURED  memory,  and  all  ye  powers  of  being, 

To  new  life  waken !    Stamp  the  vision  clear 
On  the  soul's  inmost  substance.     Oh,  let  seeing 

Be  more  than  seeing ;  let  the  entranced  ear 
Take  deep  these  surging  sounds,  inweaved  with  light 

Of  unimagined  radiance ;  let  the  intense 
Illumined  loveliness  that  thrills  the  night 

Strike  in  the  human  heart  some  deeper  sense  ! 
So  shall  these  domes  that  meet  heaven's  curved  blue, 

And  yon  long,  white  imperial  colonnade, 
And  many-columned  peristyle  endue 

The  mind  with  beauty  that  shall  never  fade  : 
Though  all  too  soon  to  dark  oblivion  wending  — 
Reared  in  one  happy  hour  to  know  as  swift  an  ending. 

3° 


THE    VANISHING   CITY 


Thou  shalt  of  all  the  cities  of  the  world 

Famed  for  their  grandeur,  ever  more  endure 
Imperishably  and  all  alone  impearled 

In  the  world's  living  thought,  the  one  most  sure 
Of  love  undying  and  of  endless  praise 

For  beauty  only  —  chief  of  all  thy  kind  ; 
Immortal,  even  because  of  thy  brief  days ; 

Thou  cloud-built,  fairy  city  of  the  mind ! 
Here  man  doth  pluck  from  the  full  tree  of  life 

The  latest,  lordliest  flower  of  earthly  art ; 
This  doth  he  breathe,  while  resting  from  his  strife, 

This  presses  he  against  his  weary  heart; 
Then,  wakening  from  his  dream  within  a  dream, 
He  flings  the  faded  flower  on  Time's   down-rushing 
stream. 

in 

Oh,  never  as  here  in  the  eternal  years 

Hath  burst  to  bloom  man's  free  and  soaring  spirit, 
Joyous,  untrammeled,  all  untouched  by  tears 

And  the  dark  weight  of  woe  it  doth  inherit. 


3 2  THE    VANISHING   CITY 

Never  so  swift  the  mind's  imaginings 

Caught  sculptured  form,  and  color.     Never  before  — 
Save  where  the  soul  beats  unembodied  wings 

'Gainst  viewless  skies — was  such  enchanted  shore 
Jeweled  with  ivory  palaces  like  these : 

By  day  a  miracle,  a  dream  by  night; 
Yet  real  as  beauty  is,  and  as  the  seas 

Whose  waves  glance  back  keen  lines  of  glittering  light 
When  million  lamps,  and  coronets  of  fire, 
And  fountains  as  of  flame,  to  the  bright  stars  aspire. 

IV 

Glide,  magic  boat,  from  out  the  green  lagoon, 

'Neath  the  dark  bridge,  into  this  smiting  glow 
And  unthought  glory.     Even  the  glistening  moon 

Hangs  in  the  nearer  splendor. — Let  not  go 
The  scene,  my  soul,  till  ever  't  is  thine  own ! 

This  is  Art's  citadel  and  crown.     How  still 
The  innumerous  multitudes  from  every  zone, 

That  watch  and  listen;  while  each  eye  doth  fill 
With  joyous  tears  unwept.     Now  solemn  strains 

Of  brazen  music  give  the  waiting  soul 


THE    VANISHING   CITY 


33 


Voice  and  a  sigh  —  it  other  speech  disdains, 

^Here  where  the  visual  sense  faints  to  its  goal ! 
Ah,  silent  multitudes,  ye  are  a  part 
Of  the  wise  architect's  supreme  and  glorious  art ! 


O  joy  almost  too  high  for  saddened  mortal ! 

O  ecstasy  envisioned !    Thou  shouldst  be 
Lasting  as  thou  art  lovely;  as  immortal 

As  through  all  time  the  matchless  thought  of  thee! 
Yet  would  we  miss,  then,  the  sweet,  piercing  pain 

Of  thy  inconstancy !     Could  we  but  banish 
This  haunting  pang,  ah,  then  thou  wouldst  not  reign 

One  with  the  golden  sunset  that  doth  vanish 
Through  myriad  lingering  tints  down  melting  skies ; 

Nor  the  pale  mystery  of  the  New  World  flower 
That  blooms  once  only,  then  forever  dies  — 

Pouring  a  century's  wealth  on  one  dear  hour. 
Then  vanish,  City  of  Dream,  and  be  no  more; 
Soon  shall   this   fair   Earth's  self  be   lost   on   the   un 
known  shore. 
3 


THE   TOWER   OF   FLAME 

THE    COLUMBIAN    EXPOSITION,    JULY    IO,    1893 


HERE  for  the  world  to  see  men  brought  their  fairest, 
Whatever  of  beauty  is  in  all  the  earth; 

The  priceless  flower  of  art,  the  loveliest,  rarest, 
Here  by  our  inland  ocean  came  to  glorious  birth. 

ii 

Vet  on  this  day  of  doom  a  strange  new  splendor 
Shed  its  celestial  light  on  all  men's  eyes: 

Flower  of  the  hero-soul, —  consummate,  tender, — 
That  from  the  tower  of  flame  sprang  to  the  eternal 

skies. 


LOWELL 


FROM  the  shade  of  the  elms  that  murmured  above  thy 

birth 
And  the  pines  that  sheltered  thy  life  and  shadowed 

the  end, 
'Neath    the    white-blue    skies    thee    to    thy    rest    we 

bore, — 
'Neath   the  summer   skies   thou    didst  love,   'mid  the 

songs  of  thy  birds, 
By  thy  childhood's  stream,   'neath   the  grass  and   the 

flowers  thou  knewest, 
Near  the  grave  of  the  singer  whose  name  with  thine 

own  is  enlaureled, 
By  the  side  of  the  brave  who  live  in  thy  deathless 

song, — 
Here  all  that   was  mortal  of  thee   we  left,   with   our 

tears, 
With    our    love,    and    our    grief  that    could    not    be 

quenched  or  abated : 

35 


36  LOWELL 

For  even  the  part  that  was  mortal,  sweet  friend  and 
companion ! 

That  face,  and  that  figure  of  beauty,  and  flashing  eye 

Which  in  youth  shone  forth  like  a  god's  'mid  lesser  men, 

And  in  gray-haired,  strenuous  age  still  glowed  and 
lustered,— 

These,  too,  were  dear  to  us, —  blame  us  not,  soaring 
spirit ! 

These,  too,  were  dear — and  now  we  shall  never  be 
hold  them, 

Nor  ever  shall  feel  the  quick  clasp  of  thy  welcoming 
hand. 

ii 

But  not  for  ourselves  alone  are  we  spent  in  grieving, — 
For  the  stricken  Land  we  mourn  whose  light  is  dark 
ened, 
Whose   soul   in  sorrow   went  forth  in  the  night-time 

with  thine. 

Lover  and  laureate  thou  of  the  wide  New  World, 
Whose  pines,  and  prairies,  and  people,  and  teeming  soil, 
Where  was  shaken  of  old  the  seed  of  the  freedom  of 
men, 


LOWELL  37 

Thou  didst  love  as  a  strong  man  loveth  the  maiden 
he  woos, — 

Not  the  woman  he  toys  with,  and  sings  to,  and,  pass 
ing,  forgets,— 

Whom  he  woos,  whom  he  wins,  whom  he  weds,  his 
passion,  his  pride, 

Who  no  shadow  of  wrong  shall  suffer,  who  shall  stand 
in  his  sight 

Pure  as  the  sky  of  the  evil  her  foeman  may  threat, 

Save  by  word  or  by  thought  of  her  own  in  her  white 
ness  untouched, 

And  wounded  alone  of  the  lightning  her  spirit  engen 
ders. 

in 

Take  of  thy  grief  new  strength,  new  life,  O  Land ! 

Weep  no  more  he  is  lost,  but  rejoice  and  be  glad  for 
ever 

That  thy  lover  who  died  was  born,  for  thy  pleasure, 
thy  glory, — 

While  his  love  and  his  fame  light  ever  thy  climbing 

path. 
August  14,  1891. 


THE   SILENCE    OF   TENNYSON 

WHEN  that  great  shade  into  the  silence  vast 

Through  thinking  silence  passed; 

When  he,  our  century's  soul  and  voice,  was   hushed, 

We  who, —  appalled,  bowed,  crushed, — 

Within  the  holy  moonlight  of  his  death 

Waited  the  parting  breath  — 

Ah,  not  in  song 

Might  we  our  grief  prolong. 

Silence  alone,  O  golden  spirit  fled! 

Silence  alone  could  mourn  that  silence  dread. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  GREAT  MAN 

WHEN  from  this  mortal  scene 
A  great  soul  passes  to  the  vast  unknown, 
Let  not  in  hopeless  grief  the  spirit  groan. . 
Death  comes  to  all,  the  mighty  and  the  mean. 
If  by  that  death  the  whole  world  suffers  loss, 
This  be  the  proof  (and  lighter  thus  our  cross), 
That  he  for  whom   the  world  doth  sorely  grieve 
Greatly   hath    blessed    mankind    in   that   he   once 

did  live. 

Then,  at  the  parting  breath 
Let  men  praise  Life,  nor  idly  blame  dark  Death. 


39 


FAME 

FAME  is  an  honest  thing, 

It  is  deceived  not; 

It  passes  by  the  palace  gates 

Where  the  crowned  usurper  waits, 

Enters  the  peasant-poet's  cot 

And  cries —  "  Thou  art  the  king  !  " 


A    MONUMENT    BY    ST.    GAUDENS 

THIS  is  not  Death,  nor  Sorrow,  nor  sad  Hope; 
Nor  Rest  that  follows  strife.    But,  oh  more  dread! 
'T  is  Life,  for  all  its  agony  serene; 
Immortal,  and  unmournful,  and  content. 


A    MEMORY   OF   RUBINSTEIN 

HE  of  the  ocean  is,  its  thunderous  waves 
Echo  his  music;  while  far  down  the  shore 
Mad  laughter  hurries, —  a  white,  blowing  spume. 
I  hear  again  in  memory  that  wild  storm : 
The  winds  of  heaven  go  rushing  round  the  world, 
And  broods  above  the  rage  one  sphinx-like  face. 


HOW   PADEREWSKI    PLAYS 


IF  words  were  perfume,  color,  wild  desire ; 

If  poet's  song  were  fire 

That  burned  to  blood  in  purple-pulsing  veins; 

If  with   a  bird-like   thrill   the   moments  throbbed  to 

hours; 

If  summer's  rains 

Turned  drop  by  drop  to  shy,  sweet,  maiden  flowers; 
If  God  made  flowers  with  light  and  music  in  them, 
And  saddened  hearts  could  win  them ; 
If  loosened  petals  touched  the  ground 
With  a  caressing  sound ; 

If  love  's  eyes  uttered  word 
No  listening  lover  e'er  before  had  heard; 
If  silent  thoughts  spake  with  a  bugle's  voice ;  . 
If  flame  passed  into   song  and  cried,   "  Rejoice !    Re 
joice  !  " 

43 


44 


"HOW  PADEREWSKI  PLAYS 


If  words  could  picture  life's,  hope's,  heaven's  eclipse 
When  the  last  kiss  has  fallen  on  dying  eyes  and  lips; 
If  all  of  mortal  woe 
Struck  on  one  heart  with  breathless  blow  on  blow; 

If  melody  were  tears,  and  tears  were  starry  gleams 
That  shone  in  evening's  amethystine  dreams; 
Ah,  yes,  if  notes  were  stars,  each  star  a  different  hue, 
Trembling  to  earth  in  dew; 
Or  if  the  boreal  pulsings,  rose  and  white, 
Made  a  majestic  music  in  the  night; 
If  all  the  orbs  lost  in  the  light  of  day 
In  the  deep,  silent  blue  began  their  harps  to  play; 

And  when  in  frightening  skies  the  lightnings  flashed 
And  storm-clouds  crashed, 

If  every  stroke   of  light  and  sound  were  but  excess 
of  beauty ; 

If  human  syllables  could  e'er  refashion 
That  fierce  electric  passion ; 

If  other  art  could  match  (as  were  the  poet's  duty) 
The  grieving,  and  the  rapture,  and  the  thunder 
Of  that  keen  hour  of  wonder, — 
That  light  as  if  of  heaven,  that  blackness  as  of  hell, — 
How  Paderewski  plays  then  might  I  dare  to  tell. 


HO IV  PADEREWSKI  PLAYS"  45 


How  Paderewski  plays!     And  was  it  he 
Or  some  disbodied  spirit  that  had  rushed 
From  silence  into  singing;  that  had  crushed 
Into  one  startled  hour  a  life's  felicity, 
And  highest  bliss   of  knowledge  —  that   all  life,  grief, 

wrong, 
Turn  at  the  last  to  beauty  and  to  song! 


THE    ACTOR 


GLORIOUS  that  ancient  art !  — 
In  thine  own  form  to  show  the  fire  and  fashion 
Of  every  age  and  clime,  of  every  passion 
That  dwells  in  man's  deep  heart! 


Actor,   act  well,  not  meanly, 

Thy  part  in  life,  as  on  the  mimic  stage! 

From  highest  thought  is  born  art's  noblest  rage: 

Live,  act,  end  all,  serenely ! 


THE    STRICKEN    PLAYER 

WHEN  at  life's  last  the  stricken  player  lies, 
When  throng  before  his  darkened,  dreaming  eyes 
His  soul's  companions:  which  more  real  then  — 
The  human  comrades,  the  live  women  and  men 
Of  the  large  world  he  knew,   or  the  ideal 
Imagined  creatures  his  own  art  made  real, — 
Wherein  he  poured  his  spirit's  very  being, 
His  soul  and  body?     Are  those  dim  eyes  seeing 
Himself  as  one  of  Shakespeare's  men  ?     Are  maids 
And  queens  he  wooed,  the  kings  he  was,  or  knew 
Upon  the  tragic  stage, —  are  these  the  shades 
That  now  his  visionary  hours  pursue, 
Attendant  on  his  passing  ?     Listen  near ! 
What  breathed  murmurs  'scape  those  pallid  lips 
To  which  the  nations  hearkened,  ere  the  eclipse 
Of  all  that  brightness?     Now  lean  close  and  hear; 
Ah,  see  that  look,  sweeter  than  when  he  smiled 
Upon  the  applauding  world,  —  while  she  draws  near 
And  hears  a  dear  voice  whisper,  "  Child,  my  Child ! " 

47 


ELEONORA    DUSE 

IF  ever  flashed  upon  this  mortal  scene 

A  soul  unsheathed,  a  pale,  trembling  flame, 

That  suffered  every  gust,  and  yet  did  cling 

With  fire  unquenchable  —  it  is  thine  own, 

Thou  artist  of  the  real!     Unto  thee 

No  mirth  of  life  is  secret;  but,  sweet  soul, 

With  what  sure  art  thou  picturest  human  woe 

How  natural  tears  to  those  Italian  eyes  — 

Shadowing  in  untold  depths  whatever  grief 

Familiar  is  to  mortals! 


KELP   ROCK 

"  ROCK  's  the  song-soil,"  truly 
(So  sang  one  bard  of  power); 
Therefore  our  poet  duly 
Built  on  this  rock  his  tower. 
And  therefore  in  his  singing 
We  hear  the  storm-bell  ringing, 
The  siren's  piercing  warning 
Through  misty  eve  and  morning, 
The  sea-winds  roaring,  sighing, 
The  long  waves  rising,  falling, 
We  hear  the  herons  calling, 
The  clashing  waves  replying. 


49 


AT    NIAGARA 


THERE  at  the  chasm's  edge  behold  her  lean 
Trembling  as,  'neath  the  charm, 
A  wild  bird  lifts  no  wing  to  'scape  from  harm; 
Her  very  soul  drawn  to  the  glittering,  green, 
Smooth,  lustrous,  awful,  lovely  curve  of  peril; 
While  far  below  the  bending  sea  of  beryl 
Thunder  and  tumult — whence  a  billowy  spray 
Enclouds  the  day. 


What  dream  is  hers  ?  No  dream  hath  wrought  that  spell ! 
The  long  waves  rise  and  sink ; 
Pity  that  virgin  soul  on  passion's  brink, 
Confronting  Fate, —  swift,  unescapable, — 
Fate,  which  of  nature  is  the  intent  and  core, 
And  dark  and  strong  as  the  steep  river's  pour, 
Cruel  as  love,  and  wild  as  love's  first  kiss ! 
Ah,  God  !  the  abyss ! 

50 


THE    CHILD-GARDEN 

IN  the  child-garden  buds  and  blows 
A  blossom  lovelier  than  the  rose. 

If  all  the  flowers  of  all  the  earth 
In  one  garden  broke  to  birth, 

Not  the  fairest  of  the  fair 

Could  with  this  sweet  bloom  compare; 

Nor  would  all  their  shining  be 
Peer  to  its  lone  bravery. 

Fairer  than  the  rose,  I  say? 
Fairer  than  the  sun-bright  day 

In  whose  rays  all  glories  show, 
All  beauty  is,  all  blossoms  blow. 

What  this  blossom,  fragrant,  tender, 
That  outbeams  the  rose's  splendor, — 


THE  CHILD-GARDEN 

Purer  is,  more  tinct  with  light 
Than  the  lily's  flame  of  white  ? 

Of  beauty  hath  this  flower  the  whole, 
And  its  name  —  the  Human  Soul! 

While  beside  it  deeply  shine 
Blooms  that  take  its  light  divine : 

The  perilous  sweet  flower  of  Hope 
Here  its  hiding  eyes  doth  ope, 

And  Gentleness  doth  near  uphold 
Its  healing  leaves  and  heart  of  gold; 

Here  tender  fingers  push  the  seed 

Of  Knowledge;  pluck  the  poisonous  weed; 

Here  blossoms  Joy  one  singing  hour, 
And  here  of  Love  the  immortal  flower. 


A   CHILD 


HER  voice  was  like  the  song  of  birds; 

Her  eyes  were  like  the  stars; 
Her  little  waving  hands  were  like 

Bird's  wings  that  beat  the  bars. 


And  when  those  waving  hands  were  still, — 

Her  soul  had  fled  away, — 
The  music  faded  from  the  air, 

The  color  from  the  day. 


53 


TWO    VALLEYS 

YES,  't  is  a  glorious  sight, 

This  valley,  that  mountain  height. 

The  river  plunges  and  roars 
Like  the  wild  sea  on  its  shores 

What  time  in  waves  enorm 
Breaks  the  gigantic  storm. 

The  wooded  mount  doth  climb 
To  a  thought  intense,  sublime. 

The  glory  of  all  I  feel; 

But  my  heart,  my  heart,  will  steal 

Down  the  journey  of  years, 

Through  the  vale  of  life,  and  of  tears, 

54 


TWO    VALLEYS  55 

Far  back  to  the  least  of  valleys 
Where  a  slow  brook  curves  and  dallies, 

Where  a  boy,  in  the  twilight  gleam, 
Walks  alone  with  his  dream. 


ON  THE   BAY 

THIS  watery  vague  how  vast!     This  misty  globe, 
Seen  from  this  center  where  the  ferry  plies, — 
It  plies,  but  seems  to  poise  in  middle  air, — 
Soft  gray  below  gray  heavens,  and  in  the  west 
A  rose-gray  memory  of  the  sunken  sun; 
And,  where  gray  water  touches  grayer  sky, 
A  band  of  darker  gray  pricked  out  with  lights, — 
A  diamond-twinkling  circlet  bounding  all; 
And  where  the  statue  looms,  a  quenchless  star; 
And  where  the  lighthouse,  a  red,  pulsing  flame; 
While  the  great  bridge  its  starry  diadem 
Shows  through  the  gray,  itself  in  grayness  lost! 


INDIRECTION 

I   SAW  not  the  leaf 

But  its  shadow  trembling,  trembling  down. 
I  faced  to  Northward,  to  my  grief, 

When  from  the  Southern  sky  a  crimson  meteor  lit 

the  star-dark  town. 
I  saw  not  naked  Love 
Lean  from  his  porphyry  throne  above 
And  touch  her  heart  to  flame, 
Yet  on  her  brow  I  saw  the  swift,  sweet,  virgin  shame. 


;'AH,   BE    NOT   FALSE" 


AH,  be  not  false,  sweet  Splendor! 

Be  true  —  be  good. 
Be  wise  as  thou  art  tender; 

Be  all  that  Beauty  should. 


Not  lightly  be  thy  citadel  subdued; 

Not  ignobly,  not  untimely. 
Take  praise  in  solemn  mood; 

Take  love  sublimely. 


THE    ANSWER 

THROUGH    starry    space    two    angels    dreamed    their 

flight, 
'Mid    worlds    and    thoughts    of  worlds,    through    day 

and  night. 

Then  one  spake  forth  whose  voice  was  like  the  flower 
That  blossoms  in  the  fragrant  midnight  hour. 
This  white-browed  angel  of  the  other  asked, 

"  Of  all  the  essences  that  ever  basked 
In  the  eternal  presence ;  of  all  things, 
All  thoughts,  all  joys,  all  dreads,  all  sorrowings 
Amid  the  unimaginable  vast, — 
Being,  or  shall  be,  or  forever  past, — 
Profound  with  dark,  or  hid  in  endless  light  — 
Which  of  all  these  most  deep  and  infinite  ?  " 

Then  did  the  elder  speak,  the  while  he  turned 
On  him  who  asked  clear  eyes  that  slowly  burned 
The  spirit  through,  like  to  a  living  coal  — 
"  No  depth  there  is  so  deep  as  woman's  soul." 


59 


HOW    DEATH    MAY    MAKE    A    MAX 


DEATH  is  a  sorry  plight, 
It  bringeth  unto  man 

End  of  all  delight. 

Yet  many  a  woeful  wight 
Only  dying  can 
Quit  him  like  a  man. 


Dawdling,  drawling,  silly, 

Maundering,  scarce  a  man, 

Driven  willy-nilly, 

When  he  's  dying  will  he 
Run  as  once  he  ran, 
Or  quit  him  like  a  man  ? 

in 

Vile  from  out  the  wrack 

Crawls  he  less  than  man; 

60 


HOW  DEATH  MAY  MAKE  A   MAN  61 

Cowering  in  his  track 

Beaten,  broken,  black; 

Curse  him  if  you  can  — 
Death  may  make  him  man. 

IV 

In  life  the  wretch  did  naught 

Worthy  of  a  man; 
Now  by  Death  he  's  caught, 
What  a  change  is  wrought ! 

Whom  the  world  did  ban 

Quits  life  like  a  man. 


Braced  stiff  against  the  wall, 
Behold,  at  last,  a  man. 

Lost  —  life  and  honor,  all ! 

At  Death's  quick  touch  and  call 
See,  the  craven  can 
Quit  him  like  a  man. 


CAME    TO   A    MASTER   OF   SONG 


CAME  to  a  master  of  song 

And  the  human  heart 
One  who  had  followed  him  long 

And  worshiped  his  art ; 
One  whom  the  poet's  singing 

Had  lured  from  death, 
Joy  to  the  crushed  soul  bringing 

And  Heaven's  breath, — 

ii 

Came  to  him  once  in  an  hour 

Of  terror  and  stress, 
And  cried,  "  Thou  alone  hast  power 

To  save  me  and  bless; 
Thou  alone,  pure  heart  and  free, 

Canst  pluck  from  disaster  — 
If  to  a  wretch  like  me 

Thou  wilt  stoop,  O  master ! " 

62 


'CAME    TO  A    MASTER   OF  SONG"  63 

III 

Answered  the  bard  with  shame, 

And  sorrow  and  trembling, 
"  Was  I  false,  was  my  song  to  blame  ? 

Was  my  art  dissembling  ? 
I  of  all  mortals  the  saddest, 

The  quickest  to  fall, 
And  song  of  mine  highest  and  gladdest  — 

Repentance  all!" 


MERIDIAN 


HENCEFORTH  before  these  feet 
Sinks  the  downward  way; 
A  little  while  to  greet 
The  light  and  life  of  day, 
Then  night's  slow  fall 
Ends  all. 


Now  forward,  heart  elate, 
Though  steep  the  pathway  slope. 
Time  yet  for  love  and  hate, 
Joy,  and  joy's  shadow  —  hope, 
Ere  night's  slow  fall 
Ends  all. 

in 

Still  the  warm  sky  is  blue, 
No  fleck  the  sunlight  mars; 
64 


MERIDIAN 

'Twixt  hills  the  sea  gleams  through; 
With  twilight  come  the  stars; 
And  night's  slow  fall 
Ends  all. 

IV 

In  the  cool-breathing  night 

The  starry   sky  is  deep. 

Still  on  through  glimmering  light 

Till  we  lie  down  to  sleep, — 

Then  let  night's  fall 

End  all. 


EVENING    IN    TYRINGHAM    VALLEY 

WHAT  domes  and  pinnacles  of  mist  and  fire 

Are  builded  in  yon  spacious  realms  of  light 
All  silently,  as  did  the  walls  aspire 

Templing  the  ark  of  God  by  day  and  night! 
Noiseless  and  swift,  from  darkening  ridge  to  ridge, 

Through  purple  air  that  deepens   down  the  day, 
Over  the  valley  springs  a  shadowy  bridge. 

The  evening  star's  keen,  solitary  ray 
Makes  more  intense  the  silence,  and  the  glad, 

Unmelancholy,  restful,  twilight  gloom, — 
So  full  of  tenderness,  that  even  the  sad 

Remembrances  that  haunt  the  soul  take  bloom 
Like  that  on  yonder  mountain. 

Now  the  bars 

Of  sunset  all  burn  black;  the  day  doth  fail, 
And  the  skies  whiten  with  the  eternal  stars. 

Oh,  let  thy  spirit  stay  with  me,  sweet  vale! 

66 


Ill 

A   BOOK   OF   SONGS 


r 


A    BOOK -OF    SONGS 

"BECAUSE   THE    ROSE    MUST    FADE 

i 

BECAUSE  the  rose  must  fade, 
Shall  I  not  love  the  rose  ? 
Because  the  summer  shade 

Passes  when   winter  blows, 
Shall  I  not  rest  me  there 
In  the  cool  air  ? 

ii 
Because  the  sunset  sky 

Makes  music  in  my  soul, 
Only  to  fail  and  die, 

Shall  I  not  take  the  whole 
Of  beauty  that  it  gives 
While  yet  it  lives? 
69 


yo          "BECAUSE    THE  ROSE   MUS7"  FADE" 

III 
Because  the  sweet  of  youth 

Doth  vanish  all  too  soon, 
Shall  I  forget,  forsooth, 

To  learn  its  lingering  tune  — 
My  joy  to  memorize 
In  those  young  eyes? 

IV 

If,  like  the  summer  flower 

That  blooms, —  a  fragrant  death, — 
Keen  music  hath  no  power 

To  live  beyond  its  breath, 
Then  of  this  flood  of  song 
Let  me  drink  long ! 

v 
Ah,  yes,  because  the  rose 

Doth  fade  like  sunset  skies; 
Because  rude  winter  blows 

All  bare,  and  music  dies  — 
Therefore,  now  is  to  me 
Eternity ! 


"FADES  THE   ROSE" 


FADES  the  rose;  the  year  grows  old; 
The  tale  is  told; 
Youth  doth  depart  — 
Only  stays  the  heart. 


-Ah,  no !  if  stays  the  heart, 
,  Youth  can  ne'er  depart, 
—Nor  the  sweet  tale  be  told  — 
•  Never  the  rose  fade,  nor  the  year  grow  old. 


THE   WINTRY  HEART 


ON  the  sad  winter  trees 

The  dead,  red  leaves  remain, 

Though  to  and  fro  the  bleak  winds  blow, 
And  falls  the  freezing  rain. 


So  to  the  wintry  heart 

Clings  color  of  the  past, 
While  through  dead  leaves  shudders  and  grieves 

The  melancholy  blast. 


HAST  THOU  HEARD  THE   NIGHTINGALE  ? 


YES,   I  have  heard  the  nightingale. 
As  in  dark  woods  I  wandered, 
And  dreamed  and  pondered, 
A  voice  passed  by  all  fire 
And  passion  and  desire; 
I  rather  felt  than  heard 
The  song  of  that  lone  bird  : 

Yes,  I  have  heard  the  nightingale. 


Yes,  I  have  heard  the  nightingale. 
I  heard  it,  and  I  followed; 
The  warm  night  swallowed 
This  soul  and  body  of  mine, 
As  burning  thirst  takes  wine, 
While  on  and  on  I  pressed 
Close  to  that  singing  breast : 

Yes,  I  have  heard  the  nightingale. 

73 


74  HAST  THOU  HEARD    THE  NIGHTINGALE? 


Ill 

Yes,  I  have  heard  the  nightingale. 

Well  doth  each  throbbing  ember 
The  flame  remember; 
And  I  —  how  quick  that  sound 
Turned  drops  from  a  deep  wound! 
How  this  heart  was  the  thorn 
Which  pierced  that  breast  forlorn! 

Yes,  I  have  heard  the  nightingale. 


IN  THAT  DREAD,  DREAMED-OF  HOUR" 


IN  that  dread,  dreamed-of  hour 

When  in  her  heart  love's  rose  flames  into  flower, 
;T  is  never,  never  yes, 

But  no,  110,  no,  whate'er  the  startled  eyes  confess. 

ii 

Her  frail  denial  at  last 

Swept  clean  away  like  burnt  leaves  in  the  blast; 
No  longer  no,  no,  no ! 

But  yes,  forever  yes,  while  love's  red  rose  doth  blow. 


75 


ROSE-DARK   THE    SOLEMN    SUNSET 


ROSE-DARK  the  solemn  sunset 
That  holds  my  thought  of  thee; 

With  one  star  in  the  heavens 
And  one  star  in  the  sea. 


On  high  no  lamp  is  lighted, 

Nor  where  the  long  waves  flow, 

Save  the  one  star  of  evening 
And  the  shadow  star  below. 

in 

Light  of  my  Life,  the  darkness 
Comes  with  the  twilight  dream; 

Thou  art  the  bright  star  shining, 
And  I  but  the  shadowy  gleam. 


WINDS    TO    THE    SILENT    MORN" 


WINDS  to  the  silent  morn; 

Waves  to  the  ocean; 
Voice  to  the  song  unsung; 

Song  to  emotion; 
Light  to  the   golden  flower; 

Bird  to  the  tree; 
Love  to  the  heart  of  love, 

And  I  to  thee! 


Dawn  to  the  darkened  world; 

Hope  to  the  morrow ; 
Music  to  passion;  and 

Weeping  to  sorrow ; 
Love  to  the  heart  that  longs; 

Moon  to  the  sea; 
Heaven  to  the  earthborn  soul, 

And  thou  to  me. 

77 


IV 
A   WEEK'S    CALENDAR 


A   WEEK'S    CALENDAR 


NEW   YEAR 

EACH  New  Year  is  a  leaf  of  our  love's  rose; 
It  falls,  but  quick  another  roseleaf  grows. 
So  is  the  flower  from  year  to  year  the  same, 
But  richer,  for  the  dead  leaves  feed  its  flame. 
6  si 


82  A    WEEK'S  CALENDAR 


A    NEW   SOUL 

To  SEE  the  rose  of  morning  slow  unfold 
Each  wondrous  petal  to  that  heart  of  gold; 
To  see  from  out  the  dark,  unknowing  night 
A  new  soul  dawn  with  such  undreamed-of  light, 
And  slowly  all  its  loveliness  and  splendor 
Pour  forth  as  stately  music  pours,  magnificently 
tender ! 


A    WEEK'S   CALENDAR  83 


III 
"KEEP    PURE    THY    SOUL" 

KEEP  pure  thy  soul ! 

Then  shalt  thou  take  the  whole 

Of  delight ; 

Then,   without  a  pang, 

Thine    shall    be   all   of  beauty  whereof  the  poet 

sang  — 
The  perfume,  and  the  pageant,  the  melody,  the 

mirth 

Of  the  golden  day,  and  the  starry  night; 
Of  heaven,  and  of  earth. 
Oh,  keep  pure  thy  soul ! 


84  A    WEEK'S   CALENDAR 

IV 
"THY  MIND  IS  LIKE  A  CRYSTAL   BROOK 

i 

THY  mind  is  like  a  crystal  brook 
Wherein  clean  creatures  live  at  ease, 
In  sun-bright  waves  or  shady  nook. 
Birds  sing  above  it, 
The  warm- breathed  cattle  love  it, 
It  doth  sweet  childhood  please. 


Accursed  be  him  by  whom  it  were  undone, 
Or  thing  or  thought  whose  presence 
The  birds  and  beasts  would  loathly  shun, 
Would  make  its  crystal  waters  foully  run, 
And  drive  sweet  childhood  from  its  pleasance. 


A    WEEK'S   CALENDAR  85 


V 
"  ONE    DEED    MAY    MAR    A    LIFE " 

ONE  deed  may  mar  a  life, 

And  one  can  make  it; 
Hold  firm  thy  will  for  strife, 

Lest  a  quick  blow  break  it ! 
Even  now  from  far  on  viewless  wing 
Hither  speeds  the  nameless  thing 

Shall  put  thy  spirit  to  the  test. 
Haply  or  e'er  yon  sinking  sun 

Shall  drop  behind  the  purple  West 
All  shall  be  lost  —  or  won  ! 


86  A    WEEK'S  CALENDAR 

VI 
THE    UNKNOWN 

How  STRANGE  to  think  upon  the  life  beyond 

Our  human  cognizance  with  so  deep  awe 

And  haunting  dread;  a  sense  as  of  remorse, 

A  looking-for  of  judgment,  a  great  weight 

Of  things  unknown  to  happen !       We  who  live 

Blindly  from  hour  to  hour  in  very  midst 

Of  mysteries;  of  shapeless,  changing  glooms; 

Of  nameless  terrors ;  issues  vast  and  black ; 

Of  airy  whims,  slight  fantasies,  and  flights 

That  lead  to  unimaginable  woe : 

The  unweighed  word  cloying  the  life  of  love; 

One  clod  of  earth  outblotting  all  the  stars; 

Some  secret,  dark  inheritance  of  will, 

And  the  scared  soul  plunges  to  conscious  doom  ! 

Thou  who  hast  wisdom,  fear  not  Death,  but  Life ! 


A    WEEK'S   CALENDAR  87 


VII 
IRREVOCABLE 

WOULD  the  gods  might  give 

Another  field  for  human  strife; 

Man  must  live  one  life 

Ere  he  learns  to  live. 

—  Ah,  friend  in  thy  deep  grave, 

What  now  can  change,  what  now  can  save  ? 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 


LD2lA-60m-8,'70 
(N8837BlO)476— A-32 


General  Library 
University  of  Calnor 
Berkeley 


1202648 

Gilder, RichArd  W. 

Thfi     i. 


a  -d  other  poems. 


953 


M202648 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


AEIM.O.N 


